


(in my life)

by megalaragaruda



Category: Pop'n Music (Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:58:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8273782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megalaragaruda/pseuds/megalaragaruda
Summary: (A laugh escapes your lips, and the moon laughs with you.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> 1.31.16

In your hands you hold a red guitar, an instrument that is a little bit more than a comfort. The cold metal against your fingers reflects the moonlight, surely blinding any possible spot in this suffocating space. There is nothing to be done without it plugged in, but holding it, you feel a little bit more at ease. But of course, what for? Even if this might seem like the perfect spot for inspiration, nothing comes to mind, even with the way the moon is shining through its own sorrow and loneliness, the ocean waves too shy to be any louder. 

Slumping forwards, you frown a bit more, the disinterest of life weighing in on you. To be expected to write a song at a time and place like this, and yet being unable to— that’s pretty goddamn useless, isn’t it?

Huffing a wry laugh, you look back down at the guitar, fingertips poised over the strings. Waiting. But nothing comes. 

“Nakaji?”

Rather, it’s Kenji.

“Huh,” is your response, using the least amount of energy expendable as usual. The sound of grass crunching beneath flip flops stops behind you. You’re looking at the black and white sea again. 

“You… can’t write music out here with that guitar.” He says after a moment, a tinge of amusement in his voice. “Unless you have an outlet lying around.”

“I know that.” It comes out a bit harsher than intended, but you don’t push him away. Kenji sits next to you, crossing his legs. He has his own acoustic guitar with him, you notice with a side glance. 

“Came here to write,” you ask, but it sounds more like a statement. Kenji laughs, scratching the light stubble on his chin.

“Yeah… Found you instead, though.” He stares at the black ocean with you for a moment before laughing again. "I was going to ask if you came here to write too, but you can’t like that.“

"You already said that.” You frown, somewhat embarrassed. How the hell do you tell someone you only bring a guitar around for comfort?

“You don’t make sense sometimes, Nakaji.”

“Shu'up—.”

Silence falls between you and him again; the only sound remaining is the soft rustling of grass, the lapping of waves, the whisper of the moon.

Nope. Nothing. 

You slap the strings on your guitar in a sort of distracted frustration, and Kenji looks at you, startled. 

If only you could write at any moment. But you can’t, even with the circumstances like this. How would you even write from a perfect night and scenery, if such a thing was even obtainable? Perfection is nonexistent, and no matter how hard you try to strive for it, you always trip before you can even get close. It’s always slipping between your fingers, and through the black-rimmed glasses you hate so much, you can barely see where it lands.

But that’s how it goes. In this terrible and regrettable world, everything is beyond your reach. That happiness, that inspiration, that smile. But even still, you live. And isn’t that just so despicable?

(A laugh escapes your lips, and the moon laughs with you.)


End file.
